


Dont look unless you are krissy

by heronlibra



Category: Plenty - Fandom
Genre: F/F, M/M, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-23
Updated: 2020-04-29
Packaged: 2021-02-26 15:41:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,035
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23270818
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/heronlibra/pseuds/heronlibra
Summary: Commissioned!
Relationships: Lots of ocs im not gonna lie, also some more ocs, and did i mention ocs?, part 1 of 3 - Relationship
Kudos: 1





	1. Roses and their thorns

It is early into the evening when the sun begins to lower herself to the sky to take her rest that the two meet. The pinks and blues above them dance across the skin of both of the young women, illuminating Beleth’s features in delicate colors because of her pale skin, her pale hair, her pale lips. Dorothea, clad in crimson, holds her breath as she stares at the sight of her lover speckled pink and purple, blue and orange. Beleth is unaware but she squeezes Dorothea’s hand gently, unsure of why she’s breathless, unsure if it was something she did, or not. The songstress smiles as ever at her clueless yet adorable nature, pulling her in close by the arm so she can lay a kiss against the other woman’s cheek, crimson red as her dress and just as saccharine. 

“You didn’t do anything but take my breath away, before you ask.” Dorothea states with a giggle, curling one of her fingers into her short locks, twisting the silvery strands gently. “The light is reflecting across your hair and well, it makes you look very lovely.”

She watches the unusual hue of lavender blush dance across the Eisner girl’s face, watches her smile shyly, little fangs poking out beneath her mouth. “Oh. Thank you.” Though her words are flat, Dorothea has come to learn that it isn’t the words that do the speaking for the experiment turned free woman standing next to her. “I guess I’m really pale, huh?”  
Dorothea laughs, bumping her hip into Beleth’s and making her stumble a little. “Yeah, kind of! But don’t worry. Like the moon, you’re pale and nice to look at.” She winks as they continue their stroll, hand in hand.

“You’re like … a rose. Pretty. But you have your thorns.”

“Coming from anyone else, I would hate that metaphor. But, you’re right.”

“Sorry. Is it bad?”

“No, baby. It’s just _ very _ cheesy.” 

She leaves it at that, deciding to simply enjoy the evening with Dorothea, the light of her life, the gentlest rose in her hands, the sweetest freedom she’s ever known.

* * *

Aurelie ran her hands through Alexei’s hair, trailing her hands through the thin locks and soothing her down while her poor lover shuddered and wheezed. Alexei had been born sickly, and both of them knew this happiness was … fleeting. But Aurelie refused to see it that way, refused to let go the warmth she felt when Alexei was well and laughing or smiling because of a joke she made. Because of a poem she wrote, because of a compliment she received. She was so warm, despite her sick blood. Despite the cold fever that made her lungs shudder and the icy touch of her shaking hands.

Alexei curled herself closer to Aurelie, to feel some semblance of warmth in her veins. Sweat ran down her forehead and she was too tired to keep up her glamor, too sick, too fragile. “Aurelie,” She began in a soft, croaking breath. But she was stopped by the Gloucester woman’s finger against her mouth, pressing gently. Purple nail polish and all.

“You are sick. You don’t need to talk. Save your energy, my dove.”

“Aurelie.” She insisted, before lapsing into a cough, heavy and wet in her lungs. Blood pooled up in her mouth and she leaned over to spit it into a handkerchief. “You do not have to stay here and listen to me struggle. It must be terribly depressing for you, my violet.”

“Alexei, I am here because I _ want _ to be. And there is no what if or buts about it. Feelings be damned, I refuse to let you sit here and wither away without any form of comfort in this cruel world we live in.”

Alexei felt tears spring into her blue eyes, ones that she wiped away with the back of her trembling fingers. 

“You are so sweet, Aurelie. I shall miss you dearly when it is time … for me to …”

“Don’t.”

“I’m sorry.”

Silence stood between them, even as Aurelie held her hair back as she retched into the trash bin nearest her bed. The subject of death was touchy for the Gloucester woman, and it was just a fact of life for the Blaiddyd woman. She knew she did not have long for this world, but she wanted to make the best of it with the time she had left. Aurelie, on the other hand, stubbornly refused to accept it, believing that Alexei would find a cure, that she would find something to help her. Alexei was more pessimistic. There was no cure for what was supposed to have killed her as a child. She should not even be alive now; And she would not be without Cethleann’s blood pumping through her heart.

Aurelie sighed gently, rubbing her temples. “I’m sorry, Lexie. I didn’t mean to snap. It’s just … you mean so much to me, I hate to think of a day when you’re taken from my arms.”

“I understand. It isn’t … a pleasant topic. I’m not mad at you. I would kiss you if my mouth did not taste like blood and spit. But my life is … not easy. It will never be, I think. I have an illness none in our time have yet seen at this magnitude.”

“But here, they can cure you. Isn’t that right?”

“It’s … possible.” She gave away into another fit of coughing, making Aurelie rub her back gently. “I don’t know if it’s plausible, but it’s possible.”

“Then we will keep fighting fate. Together. For now, and for however long … we have left.”

Alexei watched as Aurelie slipped a ring onto her hand, making her eyes widen as she looked up in shock. It was a sapphire ring on a gold band, decorated with little diamonds all around the center sapphire. “Aurelie.” She gasped, choking up into tears as she tried to keep her heartbeat steady. “Aurelie, Aurelie, Aurelie —“

“I love you, Alexei. I’ve never loved anyone so much. If you’ll have me …”

“Aurelie, yes. A million times, yes.”

Aurelie pressed a kiss to her temple, smiling through her tears. “I told you, didn’t I? Together … we’ll fight fate.”

“And we will win.”

“And we’ll win.”


	2. soft alcoholism

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> shhh part two. again, dont read unless your name is krissy.

It was a quiet night when Madsesi found Hector asleep on the bench they normally sat together on. He said nothing, opting to merely transform himself and curl up on the Beorc’s lap, keeping both himself and the other man warm with his feathery, light body. Hector stirred a little and Madsesi craned his thin neck up, towards where he thought the man’s head would be. He soon felt fingers running through his feathers, and the heron let out a little noise in comfort, nuzzling closer. Hector found himself captivated as always, even when Madsesi moved away to transform back into a humanoid shape. 

“I hope I didn’t wake you, Hector. But you looked so comfortable …”

“No. You did not. I …” Madsesi waited, reaching around and finding the Beorc’s hand to hold it. 

“I didn’t mind … at all. Your heron form is very pretty.”

“Thank you.” His face flushed, his heart fluttered. His heron emotions honed in on what Hector was feeling as usual, and what he felt was adoration and even love. Neither of them had said it aloud yet, but really, did either of them  _ need _ to? 

“What … are you doing out here so late, Hector? I didn’t keep you waiting for me, did I?” 

“No, I think I fell asleep out here much earlier.”

“I see. I should have traveled out here faster, then. At least you are awake now.”

There is a comfortable silence that lingers between them, making for a nice pause for the both of them from their everyday lives.

“Hector …”

“Yes?”

“That deep sadness in you, it’s … well, it’s not as deep anymore. You are healing. I am so glad for this.”

“... I have you to thank for that …”

He felt the other man lean in, closer to himself. Madsesi did not reel back, but he turned his head towards the spot where the presence was strongest. Hector gently corrected his gaze, knowing that his blindness was both a virtue and a vice. It wasn’t long after that he felt the sensation of the other man’s lips on his own in a chaste little kiss, spur of the moment.

“I -- I’m so sor --”  
“Kiss me again.” Madsesi answered before Hector could apologize too feverently. “Please. I have not … I’ve never …”

His arm slipped over the beorc’s shoulders as they kissed again, and again. Breathlessly, Madsesi laughed. “I can feel that, you know. So far down in your heart. Love …”

“Then I don’t need to say it.”

“No. I … feel the same way about you, Hector.” 

“I’m blessed to hear that. I don’t deserve --”

A hand lays itself over part of Hector’s mouth to shush him. “You deserve this.”

“You deserve so much more than being loved by a fragile man like me. You deserve to know, each and every day, that you are in a place where you are loved, and valued, and wanted.”

There was no answer except for the warm tears that fell onto Madsesi’s hands. “I hope to be that warmth for you, for … however long I may.”

“I would ask for nothing else.”

He felt Hector pull him in for a hug, burying his face against his neck. “Then I am yours and … oh my …”

The love he felt made him dizzy almost, flushing bright red from the strength of it. “I will be in good hands with you, my dear Hector -- Is this what it is like, I wonder, to be love drunk?”

“... love … drunk?”

“I’ll explain it to you when I am not .. so … invested in the warmth of it.” He giggles, making Hector’s heart leap. 

They spent the rest of the night with Madsesi in Hector’s arms, talking until the sun rose. 

* * *

The liquor was extra bitter that night, as Glenn raised it to his mouth and took a deep drink. He kept thinking of Trevor and his stupid handsome smirk, his brown eyes that sparkled when he got to tell a joke, when the light caught his features and illuminated them. He had fallen so hard and so fast that it was hard to believe they’d ever been enemies. It all started with a bar fight, months and months ago. A bar fight that ended with Glenn slipping Trevor his number, of all things. And now here he was, lamenting his feelings, cursing himself out in Spanish as he felt the heart thud heavy in his chest.

But Trevor was just like him, and that was why he was so … captivating. He dealt with his emotions by not doing it at all, he drank and he swore and he fought to feel something, anything, and it appealed to the Fraldarius heir. Emotionally, they were both stunted. Neither of them knew how to deal with it except with violence, their flings, and their drinks. He chugs the rest of his alcohol, speaking of. It’s a welcome distraction from the annoying feelings festering inside of him.

It was stupid, the amount of times he thought about those broad hands over his body, across his torso, holding him down when --

“Fuck me.”

He breathes out gently, “I have it so bad.”

He reaches for another bottle. It’s stupid to fall for your fling, isn’t it? But …

He fell. Fast.

The one downside to dying and then living again was that you made impulse decisions, because you never knew when it would be torn away from you. 

But this was no impulse.

This was …

Glenn shakes his thoughts from his head and proceeds to get steaming drunk, knowing the alcohol won’t help his thoughts any. But it won’t hurt them either, even if he pushes the fear away, even when he decides against everything, that he wouldn’t exactly say no if Trevor came up to him right now. And that infuriated him the most, knowing how easily Trevor Belmont wormed his way into his heart.


	3. Winter’s Butterfly

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Juste/Kasen time

It was springtime when they first met, and Juste Belmont was enraptured by Kasen Kanesada from the first time he ever saw the sword spirit. Hoshido was blooming with the Hanabi flowers when he arrived via carriage, and the Saniwa welcomed him with open arms and more importantly, open kindness. Juste made himself comfortable in no time as he worked out a trade route between the Hoshidan estate and the Belmont estate, his words precise and biting, but all the same, gentle and refined. But Juste was not the only one who, with a glance, had been swayed into a lull of encapsulation. 

Kasen himself was also taken with the elegance of the Belmont man, with his refined nature, with his sharp tone and kindly eyes. A strange red color, but they suited him with his crimson jacket and his long, silvery hair. He was nearly the picture of Norhian nobility, Kasen thought. And so when he found himself pouring tea for the other man, his heartbeat fluttered against his throat. Juste sat patiently, politely. He was surprisingly acclimated to Hoshidan custom, as he sat with his legs beneath him at the table.

“I’ve been wanting to talk to you for a while,” Juste admitted, making Kasen’s cheeks turn pink as he poured them both a cup of tea. 

“To me?”

“Yes. I think your sense of style is impeccable, Kanesada.” 

“Thank you, Belmont-san.”

“Please. Just call me Juste if it’s not too uncomfortable for you.” First names already? It must be a Norhian custom, but Kasen tried the name on his tongue, gently mouthing it, letting it roll between his teeth and his tongue. 

“Juste-san. I thank you for your compliment. Your style too is very different from anything I’ve ever seen. I quite like it for the way that you pull it off in the sense that no other foreigner I’ve met can.”

That makes Juste laugh and his voice rings clear and loud, though he only laughs politely and not at Kasen. “Oh? Well, thank  _ you _ for that compliment. To be given one by a man such as yourself is a treasure in itself.” Were all Nohrians this flirty? Kasen felt his heart hammer in his throat and he turned his face away to laugh, pressing a hand to his mouth as Juste tried the tea.

“A man such as me! I am but my master’s right hand, Juste-san …. How are you enjoying your visit to Hoshido?”

“This country is beautiful. It is the opposite of Nohr, which is dark and cold year round. I am very much enjoying the food and the negotiations both. I never had any idea that I would enjoy traveling as much as I have.”

“Nohr is cold year-round?” And dark? It was a rumor that there was no sun in Nohr to be found, but Juste was sort of affirming his suspicion and the rumor both.

“And dark,” He seemed to read Kasen’s mind, “Our sun never rises, making the crops we can grow acclimated to the darkness. And the people, also. Hoshido is so sunny. It’s strange for me.”

“I can’t imagine living inside of the darkness all year round. I would miss the warmth.”

“We make our own. Might I have another cup of tea, please?”

“Certainly.”

They talked well into the night, leaving Kasen with his heart smitten and Juste with his own still well-guarded, but slowly warming. They decided to write to each other when the distance became too great, having become near-instant friends. The weeks written back and forth slowly turned into months, which turned into years. Juste was going to visit again very soon, from the way that his letters began to suggest that he had more business in Hoshido to attend to. Kasen found himself hoping, yearning to see the man in the red coat once more. His silvery hair, the way he laughed, the way he carried himself —

But Juste too yearned to see Kasen, the shy little laughs he feigned, the actual laughs when he was talking to Souza, his slightly wavy purple hair, those bright shining eyes, like the sun. 

And when they met again, both found themselves drawn into each other.

The Saniwa never expected it.

But in the dead of the night, Kasen Kanesada ran away with the man from Nohr who had captured his heart. He left behind a letter of course, but it was still a shock to everyone’s system that Kasen actually went through with it. The Saniwa smiled to themselves — They hoped that he was happy in Nohr, or wherever it was that the pair decided to elope to. 

Report in Nohr was that a man of Hoshido was brought to the Belmont manor, but of course, that was just rumor. Where the actual duo went was a mystery to both those who knew them and those who didn’t, but Juste and Kasen Kanesada knew what they wanted: each other, completely and fully. Both the dark of Nohr and the light of Hoshido, the warmth of companionship and the passion of love. And so they lived out the rest of their days together, wandering the countries, seeing all there was to see. The Saniwa received a letter from time to time detailing Kasen’s explorations with Juste and his young son Richter, which made them smile. How sweet it was to watch their love blossom.

Of course, Kasen and Juste visited every so often — for both had found other friendships in Hoshido, Kasen opting to visit Souza Samonji and his brothers. Juste was always right beside him, sharing in the friendship and watching over Richter and Sayo. The Saniwa asked him once, why he’d done it. Kasen’s answer was simple:

“I know what my heart and my soul wanted. It was like finding the other half of myself that I did not know was out there until this very moment. It’s indescribable, Saniwa-sama. I hope that one day, you’ll find someone like that for you, too.”

The Saniwa nodded. “I’m glad you found your soulmate.”

“Isn’t he dreamy?”

“He’s certainly your type.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment.”


End file.
